


Substantial

by PerverseParagon



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: Comment Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-16
Updated: 2009-11-16
Packaged: 2017-10-03 01:45:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PerverseParagon/pseuds/PerverseParagon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lancelot pays Uther a visit before fleeing Camelot. Written for the Comment Fic prompt; Lancelot/Uther, "Substantial"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Substantial

It was late and Uther was bone weary when he finally managed to slip away from his council. They were angry and afraid, utterly lost and looking to him for answers that he simply didn't have. Soon he would have to go back and face them again, but it was a relief in the meantime to walk into the quiet solitude of his chambers. A fresh fire had been lain out in the grate, cold food and wine sat waiting on the table and clean clothes had been spread across the bed. With a rare sense of gratitude Uther stripped off his dirty tunic and shirt, dropping them in an unceremonious pile in the corner. He washed and ate quickly, helping himself to some of the wine to help him sleep and moved toward the bed. The clean clothes he set aside, wanting more than anything right then to sleep and escape the concerns of Camelot for a little while.

He was just setting down his wine next to the bed when the chamber door opened softly. "The dirty clothes are in the corner over there," Uther said over his shoulder, not bothering to turn and face his manservant. He felt compelled to add, "It was very thoughtful of you to have everything set out." It wasn't a thank you, but it was probably as close to one as Uther was willing to tread.

It took him a moment to realise that the man hadn't said anything in reply or even made a move to collect the laundry. He spun around, fearing the worst, and found yet another annoyance waiting for him.

"You!" Uther cried. "You made a mistake coming here, boy. I will see you thrown in the deepest dungeons for this."

For an instant Lancelot stood indecisively just inside the door, emotions and fears clearly waging across his face. Then he steeled himself with determination, visibly pulling himself together and slammed the door shut behind him.

"Sire-"

"What do you think you're doing?" Uther demanded in outrage. That someone would dare to masquerade as a knight had been bad enough, but to break into his apartments was beyond reckoning. A thought struck Uther suddenly, an icy realisation that managed to cut through his anger. "If you are an assassin, I will-"

"I'm not!" Lancelot declared, throwing up his hands in solicitude. "Sire, I mean you no harm, I swear it."

"Ah, yes. The word of a proven liar means such a great deal to a King."

"It was a mistake, one mistake," Lancelot said. He stepped forward and Uther was aware that he was unarmed and barely clothed, faced by a possible adversary half his age and armed with a sword. "Have you never made a mistake, sire? All I ever wanted, my entire life, was to be a knight, to serve you. To serve Camelot. When the opportunity came along, it was just too much for me to resist. I had to, don't you see? I knew it was wrong, but it was the only way. The only way I could ever become a knight!"

Uther felt a pang of sympathy for the young man, he would have to have been made of stone not to have felt the desperation and desire of the boy. It radiated off of him and the pained, pleading expression on the boy's face eased at least some of Uther's fears of a fight.

"The rules are there for reasons," Uther said and his voice had gentled. "I cannot make an exception to them even if I wanted to. Once I make one, then they will come crashing down. The law is the law. It is what the knights are there to protect. To break them is to defy everything the knights stand for in the first place. It is madness."

"Then I am mad!" Lancelot proclaimed loudly with all the pent up emotion and frustration within him. "For I would do anything to be a knight."

Uther stared at the boy, stood barely an arm's length away in his tattered tunic and earnest expression. He knew in his heart of hearts that Lancelot would have been a great asset to the knights, someone worthy of fighting alongside his son. To send him away, to arrest him, would be a substantial loss to them all. But there was simply no other way, nothing else that Uther could do without breaking something that he would never be able to fix.

He moved forward, his hand resting on Lancelot's shoulder so that the young man met his eye with a flash of such hope that Uther wanted to flinch. "You are a true warrior," Uther said gently. In the privacy of his own chambers without the eyes of the court watching his every move he felt he could at least be honest, he owed Lancelot that much. "You have a good heart and the drive to do well. It is Camelot's loss that you were not born to a position of nobility. And it is mine..."

The words trailed off into poignant silence as Uther ran out of them. There was much more he could say, but very little he could bring himself to utter. Instead he squeezed Lancelot's shoulder and offered a rare smile of reassurance. Lancelot returned his smile with a look of dashed hopes and immeasurable gratitude for the little that Uther had been able to give him. He wavered for an instant, poised on the edge of dignity and defiance, and then Uther could see the instant when the boy snapped as he rushed forward to press hot, dry lips against Uther's. The kiss, for it was a kiss, was hard and took Uther by surprise. It lasted as long as Lancelot had breath and then he was pulling away to drag air back into his lungs raggedly. The young man stood before him, his head bowed in shame or obeisance, and murmured words of heartfelt gratitude, "Thank you, sire, that means more to me than you know."

They were almost embraced, Uther's hand still resting on Lancelot's shoulder and young man's own clutching at Uther's arms. The king looked down at the mop of dark hair atop the bowed head, resting but barely touching against his chest. The proximity, the intimacy, was affecting. Lancelot was utterly at his mercy, his life was in Uther's hands and the boy had placed it there with all due trust and deference. It rocked Uther back on his heels and then his hand tightened instinctively on Lancelot's shoulder, pulling him into the curve of the his body, as his other hand moved to the hair at the nape of his neck.

Lancelot's head came up and their lips met again, and this time Uther led the kiss fiercely and without recrimination. With a sigh Lancelot's lips parted to Uther, and his tongue darted forward to taste lips and tongue and teeth. Lancelot responded in kind, with the same fiery passion the young knight had shown on the battlefield.

"Sire..." Lancelot's voice was low and breathless when they broke apart. Looking down into dark eyes something tensed deep within Uther, something that shouldn't have been there, and a thrill of lust chased through him. It was a terrible abuse of power, something he would have deplored if he had heard of another doing it, but as Lancelot's fingers began to creep across the bared skin of his chest he no longer cared.

Uther spun them around, pressing Lancelot back until they toppled onto the bed with a rush of expelled air and the first flash of fear across the knight's face that Uther had ever seen. The king didn't give him time to think about it further, didn't let him hesitate. Uther's hands found their way to Lancelot's hips, pushing up under his shirt until there was skin and the heat of it threatened to burn him. Lancelot was hot and malleable beneath him, leaning into Uther's touch with a greedy need that shocked him.

Garment's were quickly pushed and pulled and thrown aside, until Lancelot lay lean and naked under Uther's exploring hands. Ripcord muscles tensed and rippled beneath Uther's hand, and the king was reminded of nothing so much as what he had lost beneath the weight of years and his crown. Lancelot must have seen his regret, for the younger man slithered beyond his grasp and turned his attention to Uther's loose fitting trousers. They were all that remained between bare skin on skin, and the instant they slipped over Uther's hips Lancelot was upon him.

His hand curled around Uther's cock, long fingers surprisingly soft and calloused palms far more used to holding a sword. There was a smile playing across his lips as he bent his head over his king and took him in his mouth. Uther groaned, his fingers tangled in Lancelot's curling hair and he struggled not pull. The boy had a quick tongue, and it wasn't long before Uther could feel his balls start to tighten under the constant gorgeous friction. His fingers tightened in Lancelot's hair and the boy groaned beneath his touch, the vibration as Uther was buried deep in the back of his throat was unbearable. With hoarse cry Uther came, shaking with the unexpected release.

When he came back to himself, he looked down to find Lancelot looking up at him with large hopeful eyes. Uther smiled and pulled the boy gently into a kiss, Uther could taste himself. It would have been so easy to merely push the boy away and leave him then. To call the guards and have him dragged away back to the dungeons, perhaps never to be seen again. It would have been so much easier that way. Instead, he curled his hand around Lancelot's cock and began to stroke. Strong and steady, he stared at the top of his canopy as the boy's hips began to twitch. Lancelot curled against him, his hands fluttering across Uther's skin but never quite grasping. It was then that Uther realised he would not ask, would not beg for this as he had for a position in the court. Somehow, that made all the difference in the world.

Uther rolled toward him, his hand tightening as he reached out to cup Lancelot's balls in his other hand. The boy's eyes were tightly closed, his mouth slightly ajar as his breathing quickened with the pace. He came gasping and groaning against Uther's shoulder. After, they lay in a tangled mess of limbs and sticky sheets for a while, their breathing slowly returning to normal and the sheer unreality of the situation settling heavily on them.

Uther was the first to move, pulling away from Lancelot and reaching for the wine he'd set aside earlier. He glanced back at the boy propped up on his elbows and smiled sadly, wondering what he could ever possibly say. He began to dress in silence and he was relieved when Lancelot began to do the same.

It wasn't until he was dressed in the personal armour of his court clothes that Uther finally turned to face the boy. Lancelot stood in the middle of the room, somehow still poised with an inner dignity despite his dishevelled appearance. He bowed his head briefly and said,

"I know what I did was wrong." Whether he meant lying about his parentage or tumbling into bed with the king was open to interpretation. He pressed on quickly before Uther could interrupt, "I understand that you think the law cannot be changed. But I will find a way to prove that you're wrong."

He turned on his heel and quietly left as stealthily as he'd arrived. Uther watched him go with a confused sense of melancholy and indignity, the suggestion that a serf could know better than a king was insulting. There was something undeniable about Lancelot though, he reminded Uther of Gorlois in so many ways. He was the embodiment of what a knight should be, but he never would be a knight. Not in Camelot.

With a sigh Uther drained the last of the wine and also headed for the door. He was resolved not to alert the guards to Lancelot's escape, not for the time being at any rate. He told himself it was because he had more pressing concerns, such as putting a final end to the Griffin that was terrorising his people and to assuage the council. What he wouldn't admit, even to himself, was that he secretly hoped that Lancelot was right and would find some way to prove him wrong.


End file.
